Bend and Don't Break
by nursej
Summary: Depression can be a black balloon that follows you everywhere. But sometimes all you need is someone who is willing to pop that balloon.
1. Chapter 1

It's literally been forever and a day since I have written anything. But I'm back. So, I'm going to write out a wee story and see where it goes ;-) Much of the stuff I write in my stories comes from real life stories which are always the best to draw inspiration from, in my opinion! Hope everyone enjoys!

-Stan's POV-

Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be insignificant in this world? I mean, like a rock in the playground or a small twig on a massive oak tree?

The twig, for instance... You're essentially part of something so huge but you are so tiny … you could easily snap under pressure. Even the smallest force could break you.

Sometimes I feel like the tree. But most of the time I feel like the twig.

My name is Stan Marsh. I am eighteen years old and reside in South Park, Colorado. I am a twig.

At least, this is what I am thinking one rainy afternoon as I walk home from my best friend, Kyle Broflovski's house.

_If I am a twig_, I think, _Kyle would be the tree._

There are many reasons why Kyle is my best friend.

Kyle is the rock in my life. He's been my best friend since as long as I can remember. We have been through it all together. Girlfriends, alcohol, drugs, graduating high school…

Kyle knows everything about me and I like to think I know everything about him. He knows that when I was twelve, I stole a chocolate bar from the grocery store on a dare from our friend Eric Cartman, but then returned it the next day unnoticed because I was eaten alive with guilt.

He knows that even though I dated Wendy Testaburger all through school, I have kissed two other girls.

He knows that the first time I got drunk, I was the one who threw up in Token Black's parents' room during an out-of-control high school party, right in the middle of their bed. He was also the one who shoved a large bottle of water in my hands, forced me to gulp it down, and then walked me home and tucked me into my bed to make sure I was safe.

Kyle is also the only one aside from my family who knows I have been diagnosed with major depressive disorder. And you know what?

He's the only one who accepts me, flaws and all.

That is why Kyle is my best friend.

I continue walking, sloshing through the rainy streets, lost in my own thoughts.

It was about four years ago when I first realized there was a black cloud that hung over my head.

My parents said it was my age. _Puberty_, they would say. It was all just part of the territory of growing out of my child's shell and becoming a teenager. Mood swings. Mood swings are supposed to pass.

And what I felt were not mood swings. It was just one mood. Low.

All. The. Time.

I lost interest in all the things I once loved doing. I started missing school, saying I was sick. I blew all my friends off, even Kyle.

How could any of them understand? There was a blue sky in their world.

In mine, it was always a stormy black.

I began being "too in my own head,"| as my psychiatrist Dr. Gavin says.

There was two of me; the physical being that waltzed through the motions of my meaningless life like a zombie. And then there was the boy trapped in my head. The one who used to be happy and was suddenly trapped in this scary and dark world. I saw no way out. Nobody understood.

It was like someone suddenly switched off a light and all was dark. I couldn't see or feel the bright, vivid world I grew up in.

I couldn't even cry. And most of the time, it felt like a huge flood of emotions were built up in my chest and the pressure was so great, I thought I would burst.

But I could not cry.

I was a shell. A dark shadow of my former self.

So I decided to kill myself.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi all! Here is the second chapter. My life is filled with hospital shifts currently and as much as I am always itching to let my creative side out, I haven't always got the time. But here I am! Feedback is always appreciated.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park.

-Stan's POV-

I dump the assortment of colorful medication into my palm. Two white pills, one small blue, and a small oval salmon one. I count them and roll the colorful assortment between the pad of my pointer finger and my palm before slamming them back into my mouth and chasing them with a gulp of water from my cup. For a brief fleeting moment, I consider dumping the entire bottle of pills into my hand and swallowing them.

That was the thing with depression. Or my depression, I guess.

The pills my short and stout psychiatrist, Dr. Sears would prescribe for me would always work for the first while. I would feel myself being lifted out of my haze, happier. Lighter.

It was a subtle change. It isn't like I would wake up one day feeling great. It was more like every day I would wake up and would want to kill myself a little less.

It would continue up on a curve and eventually would steady and pan out for a little while.

But no matter what, I would begin to fall back down that curve, like sheep being herded off a cliff. Running forward, thinking I was a free man and then I would see that edge of forever. And I would not stop running, reaching for the impossible dream of freedom. Until I fell right off that cliff.

And back into my own depression.

As much as I hated to admit it to myself, as of lately, I was beginning to run off the edge of that cliff again. Suicide was something that frequently visited my mind when I got like this.

I'd bargain with myself every day. Should I do it? Should I not? What I would write in my note, what I would say to everyone. Would it be quick if I took pills? Would it feel just like falling asleep?

Usually I'd end up dropping the pills back into my medicine cabinet with an angry clatter, staring at my hollow eyes in the mirror, disgusted with myself. I was a coward.

And Kyle's face would always appear in my mind's eye, pleading and upset. His green eyes brimming with concern, his hand on mine. Always my supportive best friend.

Sometimes I feel like he is the only reason I have made it this far in life and haven't swallowed all those pills.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts when I hear my phone chirping from my room and I turn on my heels from my spot in my attached bathroom and drag myself over to it.

"Hello?"

It's Kyle. He's excited, spilling over on the edge with a childish glee in his voice.

"Dude! Sorry, I know it's late but something amazing just happened!" He breathes through a hushed whisper. From his quieted voice, I assume he probably isn't supposed to be on the phone. Mrs. Brovfloski is kind of intense and strict. She always has been and probably always will be. Kyle is one of the only eighteen year old boys I know who still has a bed time.

I suppress a yawn. The little blue pill I take at night is one that helps me sleep and it usually works pretty quickly. But mostly, other people with high energy seem to suck all I have out of me. Kyle is that vampire right now.

"Dude, what is it? I was just about to go to-,"

"Shannon asked me out, Dude!"

I stiffen and my fingers clench around my cell phone. I try to ignore the anxious feeling building in the pit of my stomach and pretend that my heart did not just drop to my knees. When I trust myself to speak, I do.

"Wow, Dude… That's, um, great," I say awkwardly, hoping Kyle doesn't hear the slight tremor in my forced reply.

"I know, Dude! We were just talking over facebook chat for hours and she confessed she has had a crush on me for, like, 5 months now! Isn't that crazy? I never thought she would like someone like me! I …Stan?"

I suddenly let out a breath, realizing I haven't breathed since he started talking again.

"Yeah, Kyle … that's great, good for you," I reply, lamely, aware of the enthusiasm I lack in my voice.

I hear the shift in the conversation, the sudden ice. It's no secret. Kyle has always been there for me, but he certainly doesn't coddle me. And he can hear that I am lying.

"You know what, Stan? It IS great. I've had a thing for Shannon for, like, ages. And just because you're unhappy right now doesn't mean I need to be!"

And the phone stirs with that empty silence indicating he has ended the call.

I sigh and toss my phone down a little too intensely on my nightstand. Flopping down in my bed while moodily flicking off my lamp, I lay in the dark, overwhelmed by my thoughts.

This isn't new. Kyle and I fight all the time. We always have. He becomes angry over my depression, frustrated with his efforts to pull me from its grasp, more often than not, failing.

And it isn't that I don't want to be pulled away but it's just not that easy. Sometimes the one thing Kyle could do that would help the most is the one thing he never has tried.

Just be there with me. Ride it out. Don't rush my mood.

I squeeze my eyes shut, tears gathering at the corners. I'm aware of the ache I feel in my heart, the empty corner.

I love Kyle. Like, differently than I should. I'm in love with him.

And this news of Shannon has again snapped me back to the reality that Kyle doesn't love me like that and never will.

I have come close to telling Kyle how I feel. It was a lazy Saturday in April. We were sixteen years old. It had been raining all day. We had been laying on the couch in my living room together. This wasn't unusual for us. Kyle and I had always been physically close with one another. His feet were next to my face, mine next to his. I could smell the stench of sweat coming off his feet but didn't care. I lived for this closeness. It was the only time I ever felt like I had a pulse. Kyle had been laughing at something on the TV, his cheeks turning pink, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, his thin belly heaving with the effort. Suddenly, a small squeal came from underneath Kyle and he began laughing harder at the fact that he just farted. His cheeks turned even pinker as he frantically clutched at his stomach, trying to control his joy.

And I couldn't remember another time when I loved him more. I remember laughing too but then just staring as he continued his hearty laugh. I wanted to freeze this moment. I felt so safe with Kyle just there with me. It had been during a peak of my medication also when I didn't feel quite so depressed.

He was just so comfortable in his skin. He didn't care about anything. He was carefree.

I felt the words on the tip of my tongue but then that burning anxiety crept back into my stomach and I swallowed my secret.

I had become so good at telling myself Kyle would never love me like that.

I suddenly feel myself wishing I could beat off to the thought of Kyle right now. Unfortunately, my medications make it difficult for me to become aroused. One of those unpleasant side effects.

I turn over, frustrated, waiting for sleep to take its hold. And when it does, I fall into the darkness gratefully, hating myself.


End file.
